Super-Duper Sunday

So yesterday was Saturday and as Rebecca Black says in her very informational music video, "Sunday comes afterwards." So yes, another Sunday, another Blogpost.

Time is moving fast for me. Subbing by day, bouncing by night, and hanging out with my girlfriend on my free time is making time fly by. Last I knew it was September, now October is just about over. It's strange. Soon I will be heading to Vermont for a karaoke and Mustache-bash party. Yeah, you read it right. I am excited. 

In other news, what the hell is up with this weather? We had a Nor'easter yesterday and it ain't even November. There was a heck of a snowstorm outside while I worked and it was really frikken cold. Felt like the middle of winter. What the hell happened to Autumn? I like Autumn. I hope it comes back and stays a little while longer. 

Not that the weather stopped us from being busy at the club though, oh no, not on Halloween weekend. We were still packed by midnight with all manners of freaks and ghouls. Just off the top of my head, I saw Captain Morgan, Pillsberry do'boy, Lego man, 5th element girl, Dexter, Robin Hood, Batman, Superman, Clark Kent, two bananas, a box of wine, an 'Occupy' protestor, Ace Ventura, Santa Claus (what's up with that, right? It's not Christmas), Elves, Redsox players, zombie ballerina, basic zombie, etc. The list goes on. I'll admit there were some pretty good costumes but people be crazy going out during a blizzard, especially with little to no warm clothing on. 

I'm just kind of rambling here, no idea or plan of what to write for this post. Sunday came fast and I've been busy, but that's not a good excuse. I guess every blogpost can't be awesome, interesting, informative and funny.  Or any of them, for that matter. I'm looking forward to Nano starting and writing 1667 words a day, and creating a fantasy epic. We will see whether it becomes 'epic' or 'fail'. Is anyone else annoyed when people use 'epic' and 'fail' in real life? It irritates me. It seems like everything is epic these days, like that skate trick or this internet video or some other stupid thing. No, drinking a case of beer in a night is not 'epic;', throwing the fucking One Ring into the Fire of Mordor is. One is not like the other so stop using that goddamn word to describe things that are barely above being 'cool'. Please, use other words like 'Awesome', 'jazztastic', or bodacious. And stop using fail as a goddamn noun, alright? Saying this or that was 'fail' or 'a fail' is annoying. Just goddamn say it sucked or it failed or it was a failure, alright? All this using internet-speak in real life just makes us sound stupid. 

Anyways, here's something I wrote. 

The Long Nap

I sat in my office, chewing on a toothpick. We weren’t supposed to chew on toothpicks in school, but then, I didn’t really care. I took another pull from my juicebox, feeling that it was almost empty. I’d need a refill soon. I was at my desk, blank paper in front of me, pencil in hand. I was waiting for a case, waiting for anything, really, when I spotted a movement.

There was alot of movement going on in the classroom, as it was choice time, so kids were playing with legos, drawing, and doing other silly things with their time. I was trying to do my job, solve a kid’s case or two, maybe get a quarter or a dime for my trouble. The particular movement that caught my eye was different, because it was aimed at me. Some kid was gesturing to me from behind the coat rack. Apparently he wanted me to leave my office and come over to him. I frowned. I didn’t really want to leave my office. It was nice, brown wood desk, couple chairs, and a sign I had made myself, plain white piece of paper with blue and red block letters saying ‘Office’, of which I was pretty proud.

I gestured to the gesturer to come to my office, but it was no use. He simply waved frantically, like a kid on Hawaiian Punch, so finally I sighed, finished my juicebox, tossed my toothpick in the trash and went over. I followed him behind the coatrack right by the door, so we couldn’t be seen by anybody, even the teacher. It was risky. If caught, the teacher would definitely send us back to our seats with a scolding, but I guess the kid wanted his privacy. And me, well the teach and me weren’t on the best of terms anyways.

His name was Nathaniel James Hawson, a mouthful of a name if I ever heard one. Today he was wearing a clean green polo underneath a red-patterned sweater and black dress pants. His glasses were gold-rimmed and thick, and he polished them nervously as he glanced around quickly. He seemed hesitant to speak.

“What do you want, Nate?” I asked.

“It’s Nathaniel,” he said automatically. He was a rich kid, daddy was the principal, mommy was a doctor, the kind of kid who’d gotten everything he’d ever wanted. I wasn’t sure how I was going to help him if his dad couldn’t, but if I could, I’d make more than usual, that’s for sure, maybe a couple dollars even, so I was willing to listen. I eyed the can of Dr. Pepper in his hand. Normally you weren’t supposed to have soda in school, all the mommy and daddy health nuts had complained, but of course, the rules didn’t really apply to Nathaniel.

“Nathaniel,” I said. “What do you need?”

“Want some Dr. Pepper?” He offered the can.

I hesitated. Yes, of course I wanted some of that deliciously sugary nectar of the gods, what kid wouldn’t? He was obviously attempting to butter me up before telling me something I wouldn’t like. Why else would a kid share? I took the can anyways and had a sip. That sweet carbonated liquid went down smooth.

“Now what’s this about?” I asked.

His eyes met mine for a brief second. “Pokemon cards.” Then he looked away.

I nodded, not surprised. Pokemon cards, of course. It’s all kids were about these days. They were big, huge even, kids looking to score the newest creatures, the best cards, trading and playing during recess, lunch, whenever they could get away with it. In fact, I had one of the rarest cards you could get, but few knew that and fewer knew where I kept it.

“And what exactly can I do for you?”

“It’s a...delicate matter. I need you to get a card back for me.”

“From who?” I asked but already knew. I felt something drop in the pit of my stomach and my mouth was dry, so I took another sip of the Dr.

“Butch,” he said, avoiding my eyes.

It was then I knew this was going to be the most difficult case I’d taken in my relatively new career, way harder than finding little Ricky’s lucky blanket. He’d just forgotten it on the playground. This was going to be more complicated than simply asking and looking around. Butch was the toughest kid on the block with an attitude to match, not to mention a couple of gorillas who’d stayed back at least two years and were known for stringing kids up by their shoestrings just for fun. I took another sip of soda. I needed it. The sickening sweetness made me fel alive, gave me some liquid courage.

“Alright,” I said. “Gimme the details.”

 

Sunday, Bloody Sunday

It's Sunday again, yeah I know, big surprise, I wasn't expecting it either, but it's here, and you know what that means? Another gosh-darn blogpost. So here it is.

I guess first I'm going to talk about being a bouncer. I know, I've said a few things about it before, but it is quite an interesting experience, to see and interact with hundreds of people, all of whom, are pretty much plastered. Seeing these people stumble outside, half-dazed and mumbling, really makes you realize just how crazy we all  are. We go out, purposefully damage our brains and livers, turn ourselves into bumbling idiots, turn our rational mind off, not to mention spending large amounts of time and money, all just to 'have a good time'. And how many people actually drink too much and have a shitty night, regretting it the next morning? It is literally insane, especially for college kids. Yes, drinking and going out is fun, but the amount of time and money spent, the idea that 'getting wasted' is like the best thing ever in our society, is absolutely ridiculous. But anyways, I wasn't even planning on ranting like that, I probably sound like an old lady mumbling about 'those darned kids these days'.

And skirts/dresses in 30 degree weather? What is wrong with some of you girls? It just doesn't make sense in my head. Maybe I'm just too practical.

Anyways, what else have I been doing? Substitute teaching. In ways it's easier than being a full-time teacher. You deal with different kids every day, you start at 8 and end at 2:20, with no need to do work outside of the school day, which is nice. It has it's difficulties though. Knowing a kids name helps immensely with getting their attention, and as a sub, you don't know any of their names. Also, the kids try everything they can to see what their boundaries are, and just how serious you are, how many times you will tell them to stop before you actually get angry. And it's hard to discipline these kids, as you have only just got there, only have a bare knowledge of what is allowed and not allowed, so you have to figure out very quickly how to deal with noise issues, distractions, and whatever else comes along.

I subbed for a PE teacher, because I thought it would be fun. It was, but it was also highly irritating and incredibly loud. I'll be absolutely honest, it was chaos, and my job was to attempt to control that chaos. Little kids screaming and running around all over the place. By the end of the day, I felt worn out. Apparently little kids do not feel pain either, because they were falling all over the place, bashing elbows and knees but not even noticing. Crazy savages, hooping and hollering. It was a loud day.

I have this idea running around in my head, basically a detective story set in elementary school. It sounds incredibly silly, and is, but I can't quite get rid of it. It sounds funny in my head.

In other news, I have begun to think about my brother's zombie idea, attempting to think exactly what I would want in a zombie novel, essentially a group of interesting characters struggling to survive. It would begin with each on their own experiencing the outbreak and living, eventually finding each other. The character's goal is obviously survival, but you need more than that, you need events, conflict, something other than simple survival. They need another goal, even if it's something like 'get out of the city'. In Dawn of the Dead, the goal becomes to get to an island. You need more than just 'zombies are here aaaaaaah!'. The Walking Dead show is doing a good job, with a cast of interesting characters facing terrible events in the zombie apocalypse, figuring out their goals and dealing with new situations. If I was going to write a zombie novel, The Walking Dead would be very good inspiration.

I've also been thinking about my soon-to-be fantasy novel idea. I have a setting in my mind, that I've been thinking about for awhile. The basics are this, in this world, people use magic by connecting to a higher plane, essentially connecting to another world, this connection gives them power, gives them the ability to use magic in specific ways. In the olden times, life was good, magic was used to make life better, society flourished. Then, various powerful archmages wanted more and more power, began experimenting, doing anything they could to increase the connections to the magic world, eventually creating an event called The Opening. Magic flooded the world, turning people into monsters, destroying cities, bringing nightmarish creatures, and essentially plunging the world into a chaos filled with violence and death. A man came, began banding people together, driving off the monsters, building a new society in this savage land. Eventually things calmed down, one kingdom of men grown strong. Then this man, now king, outlawed magic, burned the magic out of magic-users or simply outright killed them, blaming them for the Opening. Now, three young children, each with a powerful connection to the world of magic, must attempt to escape this society where magic is punishable by death or worse.

Blah, that was a mouthful. A very quick and sloppy summary right there. Ah well. I am thinking of trying to keep the events of the novel contained within one large city, so that I only really have to create that city, without paying attention to fine details all around the world. Start small and all that. Anyways, that's it for today. Next week, look for some actual pieces of stories that I am working on. I'm off to watch some football.

Writing Projects

On the Seventh day, God rested, but not me, oh no, I'm not lazy like God. Sunday is now going to be my blog-writin' day. That's right, weekly blog posts are going to be coming every Sunday for your reading pleasure or displeasure. At least, that's the plan, anyways. Whenever I make a plan like this, a deadline, a regularly-scheduled bout of writing, I tend not to follow through. This time, though, I'm going to do it! (I say that everytime). I've got a sweet new to-do application for chrome though, all fancy-lookin', with regular reminders and everything. Apparently it's a social app too, so if you have friends who use it, you can give 'helpful' reminders to them, and stuff like that. I'm not really sure, as I don't have any friends who use it. It's called Astrid, if you would like to check it out.

So let's see, another blog post. What to talk about? How about the fact that nobody comments on my posts? I know you're here, looking! I can see the (very) few page views my blog gets! Leave a message, a note, a quibble, a lyric, anything! Yes, I am selfish, I want to know someone is reading these useless ramblings. A comment suddenly makes blogging more interesting. It gives me something to read, something to think about, to respond to. It suddenly turns this blogging into more of a conversation and less of long-winded monologue. So if you read this, (is there anybody out there....)just leave something. Anything. It would make me feel better about myself.

But regardless, onwards. I thought maybe I'd talk about of the few writing projects I have going or are circulating in my head, at least.

Interestingly enough, both of my brothers have pitched ideas to me.

The oldest had an idea for a setting, basically, in a sentence (which was about as much as he gave me), post-apocalypse earth with aliens, aliens who came to earth for resources, but because of the apocalypse and all, basically they're screwed. They can't even leave earth, and so they struggle to survive just as the humans do.  That was the basic idea, he thinks it would be cool for a graphic novel or something, so I've been mulling it over, and have actually started a short story about it. There's so many questions about this setting though, so many variables. What caused the apocalypse (disaster/nuclear/virus/etc.) What are the aliens and what are they like? Etc.

I have a few answers to these questions, as I have let them swirl around in my blender of a mind for awhile now. I must say I am very interested in the post-apocalyptic setting, in the question of What happens after? Lately, I've been thinking less of a viral or nuclear or zombie apocalypse, as those have been done and redone quite often. No, recently I have been thinking of an apocalypse brought about by mother nature herself. It's probably not surprising, after the earthquake and tsunami in Japan, the earthquake in DC, the storm that hit the East Coast, etc. What if these things kept happening, getting stronger and stronger, all at once, destroying entire cities, killing billions, and plundering the world into chaos. Yeah, that sounds interesting to me, and one apocalypse that hasn't really been tried, at least not that I know of.

So I've got the apocalypse figured out I guess, though I'm still playing around with how long it's been since it happened, enough for people to have gotten back on their feet somewhat, but not so long it's not fresh in their minds. As for the aliens, I got humanoid creatures with black scales, red eyes, and completely hostile to humans. As for why they came to earth, or what they want, that's still something I'm working on as well.

My other brother pitched a zombie apocalypse idea. He said we just have to figure out the location and how far along the zombie apocalypse has progressed. I said that's not exactly alot to go on, but I'd give it some thought. So far, it's percolating in my mind but that's about it.

As for other things, I've been thinking about my novel for National Novel Writing Month. I'm thinking of going with a fantasy story, with a setting that's been in my head and written in random word documents sporadically. I will tell you something, it is mighty difficult to create an entire world in your head, not to mention with the other great fantasy worlds out there, Lord of the Rings, Song of Ice and fire, the Kingkiller Chronicles, DeathGate, etc, you have to really make the world believable, with cultures, languages, geographies and everything, or else the reader will feel cheated. That's alot to come up with, and sometimes feels like too much. I'm trying to start small though, and work up. You also don't want it to feel cliche or contrived, or fake. It has to work, and it has to have rules. The geography has to make sense, the land, the people, everything, just like the real world. It's a pretty heavy undertaking, but it's fun too. Creating an entire world is quite different than anything else.

Meanwhile I've got half a dozen other ideas, novels, and half-started stories, either in my head or half-written down somewhere. A thriller where an ex-marine is hunted by a killer who has deep pockets, heavy resources, and loves a challenge. A zombie detective who solves supernatural cases has to find his old friend's son. A western where the lone cowboy comes into town and faces a sociopathic sheriff. A vampire hunter and his mentor find out an Elder has come to town which is very bad news. A group struggling to live after the apocalypse are beset upon by a gang of ruthless thugs. An ex-cover ops agent finds himself the target of a serial killer and chased by his old agency. Etc. Some of these are Nanowrimo attempts, others simply ideas I've had for awhile. The thing about being a writer, is I'm constantly thinking about things I could write, a setting, a scene, a character, ideas are always there, inspired by anything I see.

So there it is, some of my 'projects', ideas, and other stuff. Be nice and leave a comment or something.                                                          

Doin' Stuff

It's been awhile since I've posted anything. This is probably because I've done very little writing at all. My excuse is that I've been busy, but that's not a very good excuse. I have been busy, substitute teaching 4 days a week, bouncing on the weekends and hanging out with my girlfriend, but I still have time to write. It's just usually I find something else to do, like watch television shows or movies or playing video games or reading. There's so much to do in my free time that at times, I can't decide what to do at all. Isn't that a little crazy? There's so much good television to watch that I can't pick a show to watch, so many movies that I want to see, so many games I want to play, and so many books I want to read....At times when I have time to do whatever I want, I just sit doing nothing at all, trying to convince myself to do this or that. It's strange really. There's times I just don't know what to do with myself. It's silly. It's stupid. I should just pick something and do it, right? Well hell yeah, I'm doing it now. I've decided to write a blog post, and so that is what I'm doing.

There is one thing that has helped me write. It's called FocusWriter, and it's free. I've heard about a bunch of writing programs with virtual sticky-notes and chapter-thingys and all kinds of organizational and helpful applications, programs like Scrivener but these cost money and quite simply, I would not know what to do with all those helpful applications. I feel like all those doo-hingies would simply get in the way of me actually writing. Though I'll admit, organization and planning and perhaps outlining a story might help me actually finish one...But regardless, I do not feel like I need something that complicated. That is where FocusWriter comes in. It is a simple program that eliminates the distractions on your screen. It provides a simple background and page to write in, completely covering the screen so you cannot see when someone instant-messages you, you cannot see when someone updates their facebook, and you cannot browse the web while you're writing. It's simple, with as many features as I need. (It even has a feature where it sounds like a typewriter when you're writing, which is pretty awesome). So check it out if you're a writer who wants to write more but get too distracted by other things on your computer. Like I said, it's free and I've enjoyed it so far. I will definitely be using it come Nanowrimo.

Speaking of Nanowrimo, I will be participating in it once again. This is the fourth time, I believe? I have yet to actually achieve 50k words, but maybe this year is my year. If you don't know, Nanowrimo stands for National Novel Writing Month and occurs in November. This link should help, Nanowrimo info. Essentially, you sign up on the website and attempt to write a novel in the month of November. Hundreds of thousands people have been doing this for many years now, and it's always fun to try. You write 1667 words a day and attempt to surpass 50,000 words, the size of an average novel. It is extremely difficult as you have to constantly juggle your schedule and write like a maniac as much as you can. At the end of it all, you have quite a bit of writing, a solid chunk of something resembling a portion of a novel. The most I've achieved is around 30k words. Like I said, hopefully this year is my year. I also have a couple friends attempting it with me, so I think it will be easier with other people that I know participating. If you're thinking about trying it out, let me know, it's always better knowing others that are doing it as well. It's good to have people to talk to about writing.

I have (very slowly) been reading through the What If? book on writing fiction. The latest exercise was about writing a story with a given first line, working on fleshing out the 'starting a story in the middle of things' idea. Their line was: Where were you last night?

Here's the beginning of a story with that line that I wrote:

In a bit of a Bind

             “Where were you last night?” The question is followed by a swift punch to the stomach, knocking Damien to his knees with a groan. Hands grab his arms and pull him up only so he can receive another blow. He wheezes, gasping for breath.

            “It’s...rather hard..to answer...whilst having the air...knocked outta me...” They give him a moment to catch his breath. “Now,” he smirks, “what was the question, again?”

            A hard fist wipes the smirk off his face and sends him sprawling to the ground.

            “So.” The voice is hot with anger. “You think this is a joke, Damien?”

            Hands once again grab him and hoist him up. His face aches and he can taste blood in his mouth. The man in front of Damien is huge, at least six and a half feet tall and heavyset besides. There is no anger in his face, however, only cold hard eyes beneath a bald head. His fists are clenched, ready to unleash more pain, should Damien deserve it, and Damien is pretty sure he’s going to deserve it very soon.

            “Not bringing me my money is no joke.” The voice does not come from the large man, but from a much smaller man at his side. The size difference between the two would’ve made Damien laugh under other circumstances, perhaps if his face didn’t feel like it just got smacked with a ten-pound hammer. The small man is barely four feet tall, short arms and short legs, and short black hair. At the moment he’s wearing a black business suit with polished black dress shoes and he’s shaking his head. “Damien Damien Damien...This is no laughing matter.”

            A midget mob boss, who’da thunk it, right? Damien can’t help but burst out laughing despite the midget mob boss’ words. In a flash he’s on his back, unsure of how exactly he got there so fast. All he knows is his face suddenly hurts alot more than it did five seconds ago. The dark room, lit by only one bare bulb hanging from the ceiling, swirls in Damien’s vision. A boot catches him in the side and he vomits on the brown-stained carpet. The dwarf says something but he can’t understand the words as he dry heaves. Boots suddenly come from all sides, kicking. One in the chest sends him gasping, one in the back makes him squeal. As the boots fall, he flops on the ground, struggling to find any position where the feet won’t hurt. He wonders if this is the end, death, the final scene of the movie of his life, when a hard steel-toed boot connects with his forehead.

Substitution

Subbing.
It was an interesting first day as a substitute on Monday. Teaching isn't easy, even when you aren't really teaching anything, and getting kids to be quiet and productive and listen to a stranger is a difficult prospect. You have to be firm and unyielding. Give 'em an inch, and they'll take a mile, asphalt, road signs and mile markers included. Thankfully, kids are dumb, yet think they're very clever. I remember I was the same way. If you can establish a stern, commanding and dominant presence, if you enforce your rules to the letter and do not bend to their wills, then you can have a quiet and pleasant classroom.

My first period was actually pretty easy. I handed out worksheets and told them they could not talk while doing them. It was quiet mostly. I did have to write a student up for sleeping, but that was it. They occasionally asked a neighbor for help quietly, which I allowed. It was a good class. Then, the next class, I actually told them they could ask a neighbor for help quietly if they needed to. Big mistake. The classroom became chatty and I had to tell them to quiet down multiple times. Then one kid convinced me they were supposed to have a book for the worksheet, and I only had two books in that class, so I let them share, making the classroom even more chatty. Despite this, it still wasn't a bad class and never really got out of control. It really showed me though, that students will take any boundary you give them and push it, as much as they can, especially since you're just a 'sub'.

The rest of the day was fine, just gave a couple kids a worksheet, hung out in the staff lounge and listened to real teachers talk, which was funny. The things teachers say about their kids and their jobs outside of the classroom....It made me want to be a teacher, not just a temporary stand-in for one. My last period was only 12 kids, so I let them work together quietly and that was fine. It was a good day overall, and I can actually see myself doing this whole teaching thing as a living, so that is a good thing.


Writing
So I took a look back in that writing book and decided to do that exercise that I said I wasn't going to do. It is because I was very bored waiting for my next class, but anyways, I guess the real point of the exercise to work on clearly showing an idea/feeling in one story starting sentence. So here's some story starting sentence pairs.

Birth/Death
He came out slimy and bug-eyed, like some tiny crying alien from space. It was sad that what he remembered most about that fatal moment, was the foul smell after the bowels had let go.

Wedding/Divorce
The sun was shining down on the couple as they made their vows to each other on the golf course green. The phone rang and rang, meanwhile Eddie drank and drank, letting it ring, knowing it would be her or her lawyer demanding more money.

Summer/Spring
The days were growing longer and hotter while kids out of school continued to do nothing productive at all, which was perfectly fine with them. Snow was melting and rain was coming down daily, meaning only one thing for a small town with many dirt roads, Mud.


Other stuff,
It seems I may attain more followers any time now, depending on if a few family members stumble upon this blog somehow. I can only give a warning. I swear alot on this blog. I swear because it relieves stress, expresses how I feel at times, and is also the way I talk when I'm with my friends. We swear alot. I don't know why it just happens. So to me, swears make these sentences feel a little more real, like I'm having a real conversation with somebody, rather than writing a formal letter or something. Regardless, there it is. Time for this blog post to end. Peace out homeys.

Bouncing, Writing, and Teaching

Bouncing
I worked Sunday night and it was...interesting. I was the only bouncer after 10 pm, and the place got pretty busy for a Sunday. I was outside, carding everybody. It was pretty easy and pretty boring except I met someone. A bro. A serious bro. A certain serious kind of bro known as a 'lax bro'. This particular kind of bro is one who played or plays lacrosse, and considers himself pretty much the awesomest guy ever because of this fact that they play(ed) a sport. So this bro comes outside to smoke, and we chat. It happens often, actually, people who are hanging around outside and drunk like to chit-chat. It's fine, mostly kind of boring, but it's something to do other than stand around doing nothing. So this bro and I chat it up for a little bit. The first conversation is not bad, but annoying. He says I'm not that big for a bouncer, and I respond well appearances can be deceiving, and he agrees, then he goes on to ask if I know any martial arts or something. At this point, I'm confused, what is this guy even talking about and why does he care? Later I realize he's just trying to know how 'tough' I am so he can compare how 'tough' he is. I tell him I played some sports, as soon as I mention lacrosse..."Oh you play lax, bro? Me too." Bam. Lax bro alert. I tell him I play defense, he says he plays offense and he would totally burn me or something similar. I just smile and nod, wondering when this conversation was going to end. Then he asks "How much you bench?" This question simply astounds me. Bench? Is this guy seriously asking me how much I bench? How is that a serious question outside of an actual gym, much less outside a bar/club at 11 pm at night. I tell him I don't really go to the gym that much, and this statement simply confuses him. "You don't go the gym?" He asks it like he doesn't understand how a man, much less a 'lax bro' like himself, does not go to the gym. Sorry I don't have time and money to waste pumping iron meanwhile I'm working as a bouncer and substitute barely managing to pay rent. Yeah, I don't go to the gym often, sue me. The conversation continues, some people go inside and think he's a bouncer, despite wearing a t-shirt and jeans. After, he says 'People always think I'm a bouncer for some reason.' "Well, you're standing right on the other side of the door just like I am..." He replies with "Nah, it's cuz I'm friggin' jacked." I just smile and nod, hoping against hope he will finally finish his goddamn cigarette and go back inside. He finally does, with some final piece of wisdom, "Alright, time to go get some pussy." So yeah, interesting night.

Anyways, that was my experience with a lax bro. Onwards to better and hopefully more insightful things.

I am officially licensed to teach English grades 5-8, and 9-12. Not that that is going to help me get a full-time teaching position because I have no experience, but it's not like I can find fault with any schools that don't want a completely inexperienced teacher taking on full classrooms. The good news is I have become a substitute for a few school districts, so I will be getting experience and pay. So that's good.

Writing on Writing
I'm still reading this fiction-writing book, though very slowly, as I want to write about it on the blog, and my blog posts aren't exactly timely. Anyways, onto the next exercise, which is pretty lame. It's about how every story has a history, a background. Even though you want to start a story in the middle of things, you do need to introduce a background, a history to the events that are transpiring. A story with no history doesn't feel real. It feels made up, which is exactly what it is, but it shouldn't feel that way or nobody will want to read it. The exercise is essentially looking at stories and thinking about all the events that happened before the events on the first page, and then looking at your own stories. It's a good exercise, and there are times where my stories don't seem to exist until the events happen, so they have no past. It's something to work on and to keep in mind when writing.

As an example, I'll take one of the First Sentences I wrote in an earlier post, take the one about the ghost looking at his own corpse for example. The events that transpired before that very sentence are pretty obvious, the character died in some way and for some reason. Perhaps it will be a mystery as the ghost attempts to figure out why he was killed, revealing bits of the past at a time. That sounds pretty cool, if perhaps an idea that's already been done before.

The next exercise, (yeah two exercises in one post, crazy I know) is about writing two sentences that are opposites, like one about birth followed by one about death, marriage and divorce, love and hate, etc. I guess it's to get used to writing about different concepts, intertwining them together in a fluid way. It ends up just being kind of awkward and silly, to me, so I am refraining from doing it. I just don't really see the point in writing random sentences and putting them together.




I heard people actually read this thing occasionally, probably when there is absolutely nothing else to do, there are no more stumbles to stumble, no more website waves to internet-surf, no more shows and films to stream on netflix or download, and they are wracking their brains for anything at all to engage their minds in any way whatsoever. Regardless, the knowledge that anybody reads this has motivated me to continue posting when I can, when I feel like it, and when I feel I actually have something to write about.


"Interesting and witty quote that perfectly ends the blog post" -Someone witty/interesting/famous

Further Adventures of being a Bouncer

I worked Wednesday, Friday, and Saturday night this week and still I have not thrown anybody out. I have yet to 'bust any skulls' or stop any fight. I have, however, done a very good job standing around, looking around. That is the essence of my job. Stand around, look around. That should have been in the job description: Must be good at standing around and also looking around, being able to do both at once well is preferable...

Anyways, Wednesday was pretty simple and easy. I stood outside with another bouncer and we greeted guests and carded them. Carding isn't that difficult, but if asked if I could spot a less-than-obvious fake, I would probably have to say no. Thankfully, there didn't seem to be any problems. It was busy for a Wednesday, but that's still pretty slow for a bouncer. That makes it pretty easy but also very boring. I worked 8 to 1 or I guess I should say 8 to Closing, because though we last call may be at 1 or 2, or we may close at 1 or 2, we as bouncers then have to go around and get everybody to leave. It is like herding sheep. Very drunk sheep who keep baa-ing over and over to each other. I don't know what makes people want to stick around in a place after it closes, yapping their traps off. The televisions are blank, the music is off, yet they stay, sometimes taking a step, sometimes maybe two, but then getting distracted, like a goldfish. Eventually, we get them out, then we make sure the place is clear, sweep, and get out. I usually clock out 20-30 minutes after last call.

Thursday night I got off because my girlfriend, my roommate and I went to Top of the Hub in Boston. We did this because it was Restaurant Week, which means fancy restaurants have cheaper menus, so we thought of the one place we would probably never go, the fanciest of fancy places, and so we went to Top of the Hub. If you do not know, Top of the Hub resides in the Prudential Center, which is a 52 level building, the tallest building in Boston I believe, and the restaurant is on the top floor. The view of the city is fantastic, fields upon fields of buildings and cars and lights winking in the night, meanwhile lightning flashed in the sky every now and then. The food was delicious, and they had a band playing jazz. It was a really good time and I'd recommend it to anyone, though I'm not sure I would recommend paying full price...

Friday night was very different from Wednesday. I started at 10, which is when we opened the downstairs, which is essentially a bar and a large dance floor and a dj. I was put in the wonderful position at the backstairs hallway. See, we need to keep a count of the number of people downstairs so we know when we are near or at capacity, so we make people use the front stairs. Unfortunately, in the back there is a hallway to bathrooms and to another set of stairs, the back stairs. I was put right there and given tickets. I was the ticket man. People who were already downstairs got a ticket when they went to the bathroom so they could come back through the back hallway and not have to walk up and around again. People who came from upstairs down the back stairwell and wanted to go onto the dance floor...well I had to tell those people no, they couldn't go this way, they had to use the other stairs. As you can imagine, this made me a very popular guy among drunk guys and especially girls with heels. All through the night I was constantly turning people away, and it only got worse as the night wore on and the place became busier. There was also the problem of people losing their tickets when they went to the bathroom, and I couldn't let them in either, the reason being they could have just handed their ticket to a friend, expected to get in because I remembered them and they 'lost their ticket', and then have their friend come in with a ticket. See, everything bouncers do makes sense. It has a purpose and an explanation, yet attempting to explain these concepts behind these rules simply is not possible for some people, especially if they are hammer-faced drunk. So everybody hated me. Actually that's not true. Some people were really cool about it, they realized I was just doing my job, they were nice and did what I asked them to. Others were confused, ignorant, angry. Some expressed disbelief that I would do such a thing as to stop them from going onto the dance floor. I'm not sure how many times I heard the word 'Seriously??!!!' It was many many times. Here's one conversation I had with a girl who'd been a problem all night.

"Ticket?"
"I lost it. Come oooon, you know me."
"Sorry, I can't let you in without a ticket. You need to use the other stairs."
"You just saw me leave, can't you just let me innnnnnn?"
"Sorry but you could've given your ticket to a friend and -"
"I can't believe this!" (She wasn't even listening to me) "Seriously? You're not gonna let me in? Seriously?"
"I can't let you in without a ticket."
"Seriously? I'll buy you a drink, I'll buy you a shot."
"No thanks. Can't drink on the job. You'll have to go around."
"Seriously?"
and on. Etc. unto infinity.

So that was my night, dealing with drunks attempting to get by me using whatever method they could think of. One girl was holding hands with another, the first gave me a ticket and simply dragged the other girl right past me very quickly. 'Excuse me! Excuse me!' I called out, even grabbed one of their arms but they simply took off onto the dance floor and I couldn't leave my post wide open. It irritated me. It still does. What the fuck is wrong with people? Apparently they feel entitled. Can't I just let them in? Them and their friends in? Can't I just look the other way? Apparently they're too good to follow the rules, or walk another two minutes around to the other stairs. Apparently they've got to make bouncer's lives hell. Can't people just listen, be polite, and fucking follow the rules? Nope. Drunken trashy girls and preppy guys thinking they own the place, they're special, confused about simple rules, stuck up bitches thinking they can do whatever they want. No wonder bouncers are assholes. It's the fucking drunken bitches and bastards that make them that way. If you simply follow the rules, bouncers are friendly nice people, just like anybody else. I got along with a bunch of people because they followed the rules, said thanks, recognized I was just trying to do my job, realized my job must be difficult, and made it easier by doing what I said. Easy. One guy said "What do I gotta do, give you a dollar or something?" I thought that was funny. Attempted bribery of one dollar. Another guy at least tried five. Neither worked. Like I'm going to risk my job for five bucks. My boss told me during my shift that I had the hardest job that night. Yep, I can see that. Any job where you have to say No to drunk people is a shitty shitty job. One thing this job has showed true, people are stupid.

Saturday night I started at 8, greeting people at the door, then carding, then I roamed the upstairs restaurant. Roaming is simply what it sounds like, walking around, standing around, looking around. I did that for awhile, feeling useless since it wasn't very busy because of the impending storm and rain. But oh well. I walked. I stood. I watched. Then, around midnight or so, I had to stand at the top of the back stairs and make sure people didn't have tickets. This was about the second hardest job. I forgot to tell you before, but tickets are restroom-only, so friday night, I had to attempt to ask people if they were going to the bathroom, and only give them a ticket if they were. If they were doing something else, I had to tell them they couldn't get a ticket and they would have to use the other stairs. Another great part of the job. Many simply lied about going to the bathroom, so the next night, here I am at the top of the stairs, asking people if they've got tickets. I confuse the people who don't understand, the people who simply came from upstairs to use the bathroom, and I have to explain to the people that have tickets that tickets are only for the restroom, and that they will have to use the other stairs. By the end of Saturday night I was going crazy because upstairs was super slow and I was doing practically nothing. Time ticked by so slowly, I felt like I was going to explode. Finally, finally, 2 am came, last call came, we herded the drunks out as quickly as possible, put up chairs, swept, and clocked out. That was my work week.

Woohoo. Good times.